


Variables

by x_anri_x



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 97 line centric + Jun, Alternate Universe - Not Idols, Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Underage Drinking, car crashes, more tags to come, mystery elements, not all of the boys are neccessarily good people, the others are there but they're not incredibly important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_anri_x/pseuds/x_anri_x
Summary: Minghao wakes up from a coma with memory loss. As he fits all of the pieces of his life back together, there's one piece that just won't seem to fit in no matter how much he tries: Kim Mingyu.





	Variables

In one moment it's raining, the beaten windshield wipers barely keeping up with the assault on the glass. The inside of the car is warm, and a case of beer sits in the back seat. Minghao has a bottle in his hand, and the thrill of the illegality of it has his nerves tingling. Junhui's hands on the steering wheel get tighter with each moment, as the buildings they pass change from familiar to unfamiliar. The headlights glowing behind them make every part of Minghao's body buzz with adrenaline. 

The rain only picks up more and the headlights only loom eerily ever closer. The storm has shielded almost the entire roadway in a blur of rapidly shifting grays. Minghao can only realize what's ahead of them when it's too late. The dim yellowish headlights in front of them, so different from the bright white ones behind, begin to blind him and he feels every muscle in his body tense. He thinks he calls out Junhui's name in warning, he wants to, he wants to reach out and touch him but he isn't sure if he did. The seconds blur into one and he captures the moment like a photograph, willing himself not to forget. 

Minghao reaches up to touch the ache in his skull and finds it is hot and wet. The belt across his chest suddenly feels suffocatingly tight. He hears his name called out and forces open eyes he hadn't realized were closed. Everything is hazy, but Junhui is in front of him. His best friend throughout all these years in Korea, off to university in a few months, Wen Junhui. This Wen Junhui is covered in blood. One of his eyes isn't open, and there is a distinct trickle of blood coming out of his mouth. He's saying Minghao's name again, and Minghao wants to say Junhui's name. He's not sure if he is or not, but he desperately hopes he is. He doesn't want Junhui to be worried, but his head is throbbing and everything feels both too hot and too cold. His hair is damp, and he can feel water pelting him and soaking him to the bone. Even though Junhui is getting closer, he's only become more unclear. Minghao's eyes slip shut involuntarily and he's thrust into a swirling dull, dark red. The rain beating down onto his skull feels like pebbles being poured on top of him. Junhui is saying something, but Minghao can’t comprehend him.

 

\--

 

In one moment it's practically silent, and all the walls are a dull white. There's hardly any color, save for the flowers on the table beside him, the familiar blanket laid over him, the chair on the other side of the room, and the person in it. Minghao blinks groggily, vision shifting uncertainly through various levels of blurred and clear, much like he’s getting his prescription updated. He can almost hear the woman asking him which lense is clearer, one or two? He pushes himself up a bit and his muscles feel both stiff and lame. The person on the other side of the room straightens up, then mutters some statement of surprise under his breath. Minghao makes eye contact with someone for the first time in a little over a month. The person is tall, roughly the same age as Minghao with strikingly handsome features. Minghao feels some vague familiarity about this boy, but he can't name it.

"You're awake," the boy says with a look if pure mystification. Minghao finds himself jumbling the words up in his brain, uncertain of what’s Mandarin and what’s Korean. 

Minghao can only stare at his companion blankly as he feels the grogginess in his head slowly clear. That space is filled up with questions. "Where am I?" He asks, surprised by the roughness in his own throat. He lifts a hand to rub at his throat, brows drawn slightly together in concern. 

"Are you alright?" The boy asks immediately, leaning down towards Minghao. Once Minghao nods the tall boy finally gives him answers. "Um, I'm not sure of how to say this, or if I should even be the one saying it, but, um," the boy trails off, clearly searching for words. "You got in a car crash. It's been um, about a month."

Minghao once again finds himself staring blankly up at the tall boy. His mind jumps from confusion to rapid recollection. The storm, the car, the crash, Junhui. 

"Junhui," Minghao blurts out, then looks up at the other boy with concern, "where's Junhui?"

The boy looks taken aback for a moment, before quietly saying "Who?" He blinks for a moment, then recollection hits his face, "oh, the one you were with? He's still out, I think. I mean, he still hasn’t woken up." 

Minghao feels his heart twist painfully at those words. He lies back down in bend with a soft thump, and the boy standing over him looks uncertain. He's once again searching for words, and is relieved of the burden when a nurse comes into the room. She calls others in the moment she confirms Minghao is indeed awake, and everything becomes a blur of doctors, nurses, questions, and tests. 

They ask him about the crash, and Minghao finds he can hardly remember any of it, or any of the night at all. Unease sets in when he tries to remember the days before, and true distress is upon him when he realizes he can't remember a lot of things. He remembers his mother, his step dad, his deceased father. He doesn't remember his house, or the name of his dog. He can remember Junhui, and spending time with him, but so much of it is missing. He can't remember the pastry recipe he'd always made with his dad, or the face of his close friend from school. The doctors tell him he has amnesia, and he wishes he didn't remember what that word meant too. 

His mom comes and immediately starts to cry. As she hugs him and sobs and tells him about how she brought his favorite yellow blanket from home, Minghao sees his stepfather staring at him with unease. Minghao isn’t expecting him to say anything as they’ve never been close, but he can tell the man feels some sort of obligation. He eventually settles for patting Minghao on the shoulder and telling him he’s glad he’s woken up. It's only when a woman comes in and asks his parents to come sign some forms that he notices the boy from earlier is still there, milling around near the chair he had been sitting in. Minghao calls out to him, and the boy’s shoulders jump just the tiniest bit before he turns around to come to Minghao's bedside.

"Hey, I'm so sorry, I don't really recognize you," Minghao admits with some parts embarrassment and sadness. His voice is still rough from misuse.

"You don't remember me?" The boy asks, eyes widening. Minghao stares at his face long and hard. It’s true that he doesn’t feel like he’s staring at a complete stranger, but none of the boy’s features are ringing any bells. 

"Um, Seokmin? No, that's not right. I'm sorry, I really don't," Minghao tells him with a sigh. 

The other boy stiffens and his eyes dart away. He's searching for words again, brows laced together and lips taught. When he looks back over his expression is complex and unreadable to Minghao. "I'm Kim Mingyu, we're in the same class. Does that help you remember?" 

Minghao searches his brain and comes up with absolutely nothing but vague memories of knowing a Mingyu who was tall and his age. "Are we friends? I really can't remember."

Mingyu sucks in a small breath and fixes Minghao with a hard stare, just as unreadable as before. "We're friends, Minghao," Mingyu let's out the breath he'd sucked in and continues, voice wavering slightly, "we were together. Minghao, you're my boyfriend, and you don't remember?" He asks cautiously, face coming to rest on a serious and distraught expression. 

Minghao feels his eyes widen unintentionally and he can only shake his head in response before finally mustering up an answer. 

"No, I really don't remember." He says in a small voice. He hangs his head and uncomfortably rubs his arm.

Mingyu is silent for a moment. He turns his head away from Minghao and looks at the floor. Minghao is glad to be free of his intense gaze. Mingyu is chewing his lip. Minghao is certain how to classify the look on his face. Nervous, disappointed, upset, or relieved?

"Then we'll have to start over," Mingyu declares, looking up at Minghao with a small, nervous smile. "Minghao, will you be my boyfriend?" 

Minghao finds himself at a loss for words. It's a lot to take in. In only a few minutes he learned he's been in a coma, has amnesia, and has forgotten about his apparent boyfriend almost entirely. When he looks back up at Mingyu, he sees a glimmer of eagerness and anxiousness in his eyes. He’s looking at him with the trepidation of a boy asking out his first ever crush, and being looked at like that makes Minghao’s heart twinge. He can’t remember being in love outside of a handful of lukewarm crushes, and the feeling is new and bizzare. Even if he can't remember, he knows that those eyes that are looking at him with such adoration are real right now, and he doesn’t even think about his answer before nodding in agreement.

He can't remember the boy, but the Mingyu in front of him looks at him like he's the most important person on the planet, and he can accept that as a consolation for all the awful revelations his first day of wakefulness brought. Mingyu grins wide and the door behind him opens to reveal the return of Minghao’s parents. 

“I’ll visit you tomorrow, okay?” Mingyu says, and before Minghao can answer he’s across the room and picking up a messenger bag Minghao hadn’t noticed before. He’s practically out the door when Minghao manages out a quiet “Okay,” in return.

 

\--

 

Minghao dislikes the hospital. The pale walls make him feel claustrophobic, and being alone so often makes him feel lonely. He’d never considered how little time he’d normally spent alone before now. He was almost always with his parents or friends. Now he finds himself in silence more often than not. He has a television, but the ambient sound bothers him more than the silence. It's just a reminder of the fact he’s alone, when he hears the voices on the screen interact with each other. 

His first day awake was rough. There was so much crying. His mother cried, and his grandparents cried when they called them. He thinks his stepfather cried too, but he didn’t see it happen, only saw the puffy redness afterwards. 

And there was Mingyu. The boy who’d twirled Minghao’s emotions around on his finger with such ease. When his parents had finally left and Minghao had laid back to process the events of the day, he couldn’t stop getting hung up on him. There were a lot of important things he couldn’t remember, but a whole relationship was a lot for him to swallow. He knows he’s not certain on some faces or events, but he’s at least able to remember a bit about everyone else in his life, as far as he knows. Mingyu, however, is entirely absent. 

Mingyu being absent means a lot of other important things are absent. Minghao has never dated anyone else, or kissed anyone else, according to his memory. His first kiss and first boyfriend has been snatched from him entirely. 

Mingyu follows through with his promise to come back the next day. A nurse has helped Minghao to his feet and he feels her assistance is unnecessary. His legs certainly feel weak, but he doesn’t feel like he needs help standing. She has him walk back and forth through the room, and gives him encouraging words that Minghao cannot help feeling mildly irritated by. When Mingyu comes in the room he’s thankful, as he knows the nurse will excuse herself. 

Mingyu looks like he’s trying to maintain a calm facade, but Minghao can tell the boy is positively giddy. He gives the nurse a courteous “Excuse me,” as they pass each other in the doorway. 

“Minghao, here, these are for you,” Mingyu says, tripping over his words as he holds out a small bouquet of yellow and orange flowers. Minghao can’t stop his eyes from widening. He’s never been given flowers, at least that he can recall, and it’s all a bit more cheesy than he’d normally find himself enjoying. Seeing Minghao’s expression, Mingyu waves his other hand in front of him. 

“Oh, ah, for the vase. The ones in there have gotten kind of old.” Mingyu says sheepishly, trying to look cool in the face of a not so warm reception. Minghao glances over at the vase next to his bed and he does agree the flowers are looking rather dry. Mingyu busies himself adding the fresh flowers to the vase, and not removing the old ones. 

“You’re the one who brought those? I assumed they were from my mom,” Minghao confesses, feeling a bit uncomfortable with Mingyu’s growingly tense expression. 

“Yeah, they’re from me,” Mingyu says, tension evident in his voice as he busies himself adding the new flowers into the vase. He doesn’t remove the old ones, and Minghao feels his face twitch a bit in irritation. The arrangement looked alright when Mingyu was holding it, but now with the uncomplimentary, dried out purple flowers crammed off to the side, Minghao can feel the creative part of him start to boil. The purple flowers didn’t look bad in the first place. They were dried out a bit, but they had their charm. Minghao wasn’t the sentimental type, but those purple flowers were a comfort. They were the first thing he saw when he woke up, and now they were pushed off to the side by the vibrant oranges and yellows, placed in a small case that was now bursting with plant life.

“No, no, you’ve got to take the other ones out, this looks awful,” Minghao says, reaching into the vase and plucking out the old flowers. Mingyu makes eye contact with him for a moment before looking back down at the vase. 

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” He admits, pulling back with a light and tense chuckle, “Maybe I was trying to experiment? Make some new ground in the flower arrangement industry?” he jokes, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. Minghao can’t help but let out a humored puff of air. 

“Yeah, maybe you should try another avenue. I don’t think flower arrangement is going well for you,” he says, then breaks character into a light laugh. Mingyu looks positively relieved, and Minghao has to admit that although bouquets aren’t his personal flavor of romance, it is an incredibly sweet gesture. “Ah, thank you. For the flowers,” Minghao tells him, trying to give Mingyu the most disarming smile he can muster. 

“Um, yeah. They reminded me of your hair,” Mingyu says with a nervous smile. Minghao reaches up to touch a bit of his dyed reddish brown locks. He can’t remember having dyed his hair or why, but he will admit he’s found of the color. He sees the similarities, the colors are on the same side of the spectrum, but his dull almost brown hair doesn’t exactly call to mind the saturated hues of the flowers. Nevertheless, he’s touched that someone would see flowers and think of him. He’d never thought of himself as particularly akin to soft and pretty plants. 

“Is that something you did a lot?” Minghao questions, “Give me flowers?” 

Mingyu looks at him blankly for a second before jerking a little and answering, “Oh, no. No, I didn’t do that before. I didn’t think you’d have liked it,” Mingyu admits, breaking eye contact and giving a sheepish smile. 

“Oh,” is all Minghao can say to that. Sure, he finds flowers to be a bit cliche and over the top, but he’s not sure why Mingyu would get the impression he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, “They’re nice. I don’t mind being given flowers,” he says, giving Mingyu a reassuring smile. 

“I’m glad.” Mingyu smiles back, and Minghao is certain some of the tension has faded. Minghao walks to the trashcan to throw out the purple flowers, and he feels his legs twinge in pain once he’s completed his task. He hadn’t realized just how tired his legs felt, and he is happy to sit down on his bed. Mingyu is looking around the room, but it’s clear he’s just trying to give himself something to do and not because he’s really admiring the room itself. 

Minghao clears his throat, “So, um, can you tell me,” Minghao trails off, uncertain how to phrase his request. “About us?” He gestures at the two of them. Mingyu doesn’t seem eager to answer, but he nods after a moment of the blank staring that seems to dominate their interactions. 

“Uh, okay. We were dating for, um, a few months,” Mingyu says, sitting down on the edge of Minghao’s bed. Mingyu stops, and Minghao wills him to continue silently. “Do you want me to just, give you a recap? Or something?” Minghao gives him an encouraging nod, and Mingyu nods back at him. He looks down at his hands. 

“I had a crush on you for a long time. We’ve been in the same year since high school started, and I’ve liked you since the first year,” Mingyu begins, sounding as if he’s testing the waters. He looks at Minghao for approval, and seeing his concentrated gaze, he continues, “I wrote you a love letter at the end of the year but you never responded.” Mingyu confesses with a saddened grin. 

“I think I remember that, a little bit,” Minghao says, recollection dawning on him, “I showed Seokmin, and he got really excited for me. He made a big deal and I got really embarrassed, so I didn’t do anything.” 

“Oh,” Mingyu says, eyes widening a little, “I didn’t know that.” 

“I guess I never told you,” Minghao says, lips tightening into a frown, “What happened after that?”

“I told myself to just get over you during the break, and I thought I did. But when the second year started and we were put in the same class, I couldn’t stop, um, thinking about you,” Mingyu says, hanging his head a little and biting the inside of his cheek. Minghao feels his heart tighten at that confession. He never imagined being able to make someone feel like that. 

“A couple months ago I happened to run into you after school. I couldn’t keep it in and I asked you why you never responded to my letter. You told me you never got it,” Mingyu tells him, and Minghao thinks he can almost remember that. He doesn’t remember much, but he can just barely picture himself talking to Mingyu behind the high school gymnasium. 

“I ended up confessing to you then, and we started dating,” Mingyu says. He pauses a bit, and looks up at Minghao, before deciding to continue, “Um, we went to the mall a lot. We walked home together after school sometimes. We hadn’t been dating very long before it happened,” He says, breaking eye contact once again. 

Minghao can’t remember any of that. He remembers getting rides home from Junhui a lot when he got his license, and he remembers going to the mall with Seokmin plenty of times. Mingyu, however, he has no recollection of spending time with. 

“I still don’t really remember anything,” Minghao admits, nervous smile on his face. Even if he and Mingyu hadn’t been far into their relationship, its still devastating to know that all of that is gone, and doesn’t seem willing to come back. “Do my parents know?”

“Oh, no,” Mingyu looks up and shakes his head, “We agreed we weren’t ready to tell anyone. I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Mm,” Minghao nods, chewing on his lip a bit as he tries to remember anything about the boy sitting with him. Mingyu looks concerned by Minghao’s unhappy expression, and claps his hands together, breaking Minghao out of his thoughts. 

“But that doesn’t matter now, right? We’re starting over,” Mingyu says confidently, “I don’t care if you don’t remember. I still like you and want to date you, so all that matters is what happens now.”

Minghao can’t help but smile at that. The tense Mingyu who looks like he’s always concerned with saying the right thing isn’t something Minghao likes, but this excited and confident Mingyu gets his heart fluttering just the tiniest bit. He laughs a bit before asking, “So, what are we doing now, then?” 

“Oh,” Mingyu says, scrunching his nose up a bit, “I hadn’t really thought about that. I brought you flowers,” He says, facial contorted in thought. 

“Yeah, I remember that,” Minghao jokes, and Mingyu laughs. It feels nice. Mingyu is the only person his age he’s seen since waking up. He’s refreshing and pleasant, if not incredibly awkward. “I meant, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Mingyu admits, looking up at the ceiling searching for an answer, “Uh, was their anything you were wanting to see before the accident?” Minghao hums a bit in thought. 

“Didn’t that new Avengers movie come out? Did you see it?” Minghao asks. Although he’s not interested in the series himself, he figures it’s better than nothing. 

“Oh, yeah, I did see it,” Mingyu tell him, and soon he’s launched into a description of everything that happens. Mingyu is awful at describing events, and leaves Minghao confused regularly. Minghao can’t help himself but laugh as Mingyu tries to clarify himself and only makes the story more unclear. It’s obvious Mingyu himself isn’t that interested in the movie, but he’s trying hard to please Minghao, and he appreciates the effort. 

“We should just watch it,” Mingyu says with an exasperated grin and sigh, “That’ll be easier than me trying to explain it.” 

“Okay, when?” Minghao asks, and Mingyu looks at him in confusion before realization dawns on him. 

“Oh! Um, it’s still in theaters I think. When do you, uh, get out?” Mingyu asks, voice slightly shaky with nerves. Minghao chuckles a bit at how quickly Mingyu jumps from casual to nervous. 

“I don’t know yet, but I don’t think I’ll be here long. The nurse said I’m recovering faster than most in my situation, whatever that means,” Minghao tells him, and Mingyu nods. 

“Then how about the day after you get out? I’ll have to make sure I’m free,” Mingyu tells him, and Minghao quirks an eyebrow. 

“Oh? Do you work or something?” Minghao asks him, and Mingyu sighs and shakes his head. 

“No, I go to cram school. Everyday from four to seven. It really ruins the break,” Mingyu rubs his face with exasperation. 

“Huh? But it’s four fifteen right now,” Minghao tells him, looking over his shoulder at the clock next to the vase to confirm. 

“What?” Mingyu says, and Minghao thinks his confused face is actually rather endearing. It’s possible he’s only grown so fond of it from seeing it so frequently. “Oh, oh no, I need to go.” Mingyu says, hurriedly standing up and picking up the messenger bag he’d placed by the chair at some point. Minghao giggles, and immediately feels a bit of blush rise on his cheeks. Thankfully, Mingyu doesn’t look over at him. 

“My parents will kill me if they know I skipped,” Mingyu says, clearly upset about being late. “I’ll come visit again tomorrow, okay?” He says, already halfway out the door by the time he finally looks back at Minghao again. Minghao smiles and nods, and Mingyu stalls for a moment. He’s looking right at him, and the sides of his lips quirk into a small smile too. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” Minghao calls out with a laugh, and he finds the smile on his face doesn’t falter quickly. He may not remember Mingyu, but he certainly enjoys him. Later that night, as he lies back to go to sleep, Mingyu pops back into his mind and he feels warm. He’s not the sentimental type, but those orange and yellow flowers are growing more dear to him than he’d care to admit.

 

\--

 

Minghao wonders if he should be angry at himself or Jun. He finds he can’t be, and not just because the events of the crash and what led up to it are hazy at best. He wants to see Junhui, and a nurse makes him sit in a wheelchair and brings him to the boy’s room.

When he sees Junhui lying in bed, his room far less colorful than Minghao’s, he feels a sudden and unbidden amount of sorrow boil up through his throat and out his mouth. He lets out a sob. The nurse asks if he wants to be left alone and he can only nod through choked breaths.

He hadn’t cried since he’d woken up, even as his mother sobbed on his chest. Yet seeing Junhui like this, curtains drawn and utterly alone, he can’t stop the tears streaming down his face. He stands up, and his legs are wobbly but he’s not planning on going far. At Junhui’s bedside Minghao takes a long look at his childhood best friend and feels a hopelessness consume him. The loneliness is back. 

Minghao had been attached to this boy by the hip since he moved to Korea at twelve. Junhui, motionless, looked practically dead. Minghao’s legs feel weaker than expected and he sinks to his knees, rests his head on Junhui’s chest, and cries. 

When he moved to Korea he was sent to an all boys school dedicated to foreign language acquisition. Normally, this was for Korean boys to learn a second language, but the school had a small class of international students there to learn Korean. Minghao had been lost the first day. The move to Korea was abrupt and he knew very little of the language. When Junhui had approached him and spoke to him in Mandarin, he clung to him immediately. 

Junhui had been his lifeline ever since his new life in Korea begun. He’d never truly been without him since he moved. He’d studied hard to get into the high school Junhui had gone to, and now that he was off to university Minghao had to admit he had looked up the school’s requirements. Junhui was supposed to begin his semester there in a couple weeks, but now he was lying motionless in bed.

Minghao lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. His tears had mostly stopped, and he sniffed a bit, upset he got snot on Junhui’s generic hospital-white blanket. The room wasn’t decorated like his. The chair in the corner was a deep indigo, and it provided the only real color in the room. No one had brought him flowers or trinkets from home. Minghao knew Jun wasn’t close to his parents. He was well off, and his parents worked frequently. They were often out, or even on business trips in other countries. Minghao frowns deeply, upset that it didn’t seem like his family had even bothered to come see him. Minghao had always hated Junhui’s parents. 

Minghao looks back down at the blanket and the gross wet stain he created. He stands back up shakily and gets back into the wheelchair. He leaves and goes back down the hall to his room a few doors down. He doesn’t know where the nurse went. He pulls the heavy yellow comforter his mother had brought him from home off his bed and heads back to Junhui’s room.

Pulling the light hospital blanket off of Junhui, Minghao sees that Jun has a multitude of bandages all over his left arm. Junhui was in much worse shape than him. Minghao had plaster on his lower temple, and a couple lingering bandages, but Junhui had several. His left eye had a medical eyepatch over it, and there was a heavy bandage wrapped around his head. Minghao covered him with his comforter, and folded Jun’s previous blanket to set at the end of the bed. 

He sat with Junhui for a while longer before the nurse from before came back in the room. “Oh, you’re still here. Are you ready to go?” She asked, and Minghao wants to say no. He doesn’t want Junhui to be alone again, but he knows he really should rest if he wants to recover quickly. He nods and silently says goodbye to his friend while the nurse wheels him back out into the corridor. 

When she leaves him, he finds himself crying again. He can’t place why he’s crying, or at the very least he couldn’t say in words. He curls up into a tight ball under the hospital blanket and sobs. He hasn’t been alone long, but he feels so lonely. 

He wants to be with Junhui and Seokmin. He wants to be with his parents. He wants to be with Mingyu.


End file.
